


Darker Dreams

by pastel_poisons



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Depression, Isolation, Listening Post Bravo, Loneliness, M/M, Masturbation, Necrophilia, Other, Past Fluff, Post-Blind Betrayal, skeleton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 01:33:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5951161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastel_poisons/pseuds/pastel_poisons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Men have lost their minds to Listening Post Bravo.<br/>It's happened before.<br/>It happens again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darker Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> And then a skeleton popped out!

For Danse, it's not much fun being underground. Whether it be six feet, or 50 feet, or a hundred. It doesn't matter exactly how much dirt is above you, a tomb's a tomb. Though, if he were dead, at least he wouldn't notice the sheer amount of nothingness.

He tried to entertain himself. And Klaus had provided him with plenty of gifts to keep him occupied in the past. It was mostly teddy bears, for a while. Klaus had been convinced Danse needed every single stuffed animal in the Commonwealth to be happy.

After the bear phase, it was... toys of a more mature nature.

"Can you believe how many of them survived?" Klaus had said. Lugging back every dildo and cock ring he could carry. "I can't believe the place hadn't been looted yet." There was a low buzzing sound. "Fuck! Look, some of them still have batteries!"

Other than that, Danse received many dog-eared comics about a certain barbarian, and the occasional library book that survived the literal apocalypse.

At first, Danse objected. "You'd get more out of these than I would."

"What?" Klaus would say, "You think I'd prefer book-return tokens to making you happy? Really, Danse, what am I gonna get with those, anyway? Chalk? Gum drops, maybe?"

Danse enjoyed the reading material. Sometimes, he'd come across notes and bookmarks. Glimpses of a more peaceful life. Words from children who'd never seen war. Their concerns almost exclusive to popularity and The Unstoppables. They lived in a world with no supermutants or deathclaws.

However, the damp air had long-since ruined them. Pages became soupy, moldy. Batteries became swollen, leaky.

Someday, the moisture would ruin him too. He'd fall apart and grow swollen, leaky, moldy waiting for Klaus.

The hiatus was frustrating. Klaus used to visit often. He'd stay days at a time, even. "Domestic bliss," he would joke, handing Danse yet another decoration to pretty-up the bunker: flowers, vases, paintings. The shelter still resembled a home, but only in appearance. Nowhere was home without Klaus.

Danse wondered if he'd even recognize Klaus when he finally did show up. Last time, Klaus' face was dirty and purple with bruises. Once smooth cheeks were now covered in puffy, pink scars. Even his eyes were unfamiliar: cold, dead. Time - or rather, time in the Brotherhood of Steel - had not treated him well.

None of that should have surprised Danse. He had a radio. He heard it all. Everything from the Railroad, to missions that would have been suicide had Klaus not been who he was. The Brotherhood had no problem sending him to do the dirtiest of their work.

Still, he was shocked to find nothing resembling the man he'd fallen in love with. The changes weren't all physical either. There was no real talking during their last visit. Nothing beyond the expected chit-chat more suited for acquaintances than boyfriends. It was just sex, rough and quick. Klaus had no intention of making _love_ , just masturbating with a warm body.

That idea stuck with Danse. Was he just a glorified sex toy? Could intimacy with a synth - a machine - be anything more than that? Was Danse any different from the vibrators? A corpse?

A thought flashed through his mind. It was sick. Wrong on multiple levels. Danse almost didn't even want to entertain it.

Almost.

When cleaning up, It had been the first thing to go: the skeleton. Draped over the controls for who knows how many years, still in uniform. They'd tucked him away in the steamer trunk. Out of sight, out of mind.

Much like Danse...

Two clicks and a creak, and the trunk was opened. Danse found himself looking at a greyed, permanent grin. Taken apart, hidden away, and still smiling. He was careful as he pulled out each piece .

Danse realized that Klaus would be horrified by this. Disgusted.

How could he find out, if he's never here?

Danse quickly read the dogtags, " 'J. P. Renkse'."

His hand slips down. Fingers interlock with bone. It leaves him with just a touch more comfort than humiliation.

Kisses are planted lightly against teeth. Danse pressed his clothed erection against the pelvis. "Oh."

He pushes ~~him~~ _it_ down, and frees himself from his pants. flesh rubs against bone. Danse hisses. It was cold, but warmed quickly. Each thrust pulled back the foreskin. "Klaus," Danse panted.

It wasn't long before he felt a warm pressure in the shaft. 

The pleasant feeling shot through the rest of his body. "Oh, Renkse!" His cock twitched, releasing semen. With it came waves of shame.

Danse sat up, skin still burning. From arousal or embarrassment? He wasn't sure. He looked away, unable to meet the hollow gaze.

"It's possible that this isolation did something to my mind."

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my boyfriend, Holy_Leonards. He encouraged me, he proof-read this for me, and he helped ensure accuracy of this fic.  
> Thanks, cutie.


End file.
